I hope that all of you have a happy and safe New Year's Eve, and may 2007 bring you much love and happiness.
A video that truly bespeaks of hope. Amen.
December 31, 2006
December 30, 2006
Home Again Home Again
Well, the Hot Springs trip is over and here's how it went.
Yesterday morning we met Thomas' mother who was toting his daughter, 2 nephews and a niece. We waited 30 minutes for Thomas' sister to pick up one of the nephews, because he got sick. We drove. Then we drove some more. Hey! We're in Hot Springs. We stayed at the Arlington Hotel, which I absolutely love. We shopped a little and then decided to eat.
About 1.5 hours after we ate , I figured out the restaurant poisoned me. Now, I'm not suggesting that they did it on purpose, but the waitress did have shifty eyes. And, she kept telling me to eat more of the pork. "Really. You MUST eat more of the pork. The pork is very, very good for you. It will make you have power beyond your belief. " I spent last night curled up on the bathroom floor pondering whether it was possible for someone to accidentally expel a major organ from their body.
This morning, I'm pretty sure we went shopping at a toy store. Thomas kept showing me puppets, so we were either in a toy store or having freaky puppet sex...again. We then went to the Mid-America Science Museum. Everyone else had fun playing with the exhibits, while I sat on a bench in a stupor. And, I think I may have been slobbering a little bit.
Then we drove back home and I had 7-Up and french fries.
Now, I'm going to bed.
The End.
Scintillating, wasn't it?
Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who is too blech to think of a tagline.
Yesterday morning we met Thomas' mother who was toting his daughter, 2 nephews and a niece. We waited 30 minutes for Thomas' sister to pick up one of the nephews, because he got sick. We drove. Then we drove some more. Hey! We're in Hot Springs. We stayed at the Arlington Hotel, which I absolutely love. We shopped a little and then decided to eat.
About 1.5 hours after we ate , I figured out the restaurant poisoned me. Now, I'm not suggesting that they did it on purpose, but the waitress did have shifty eyes. And, she kept telling me to eat more of the pork. "Really. You MUST eat more of the pork. The pork is very, very good for you. It will make you have power beyond your belief. " I spent last night curled up on the bathroom floor pondering whether it was possible for someone to accidentally expel a major organ from their body.
This morning, I'm pretty sure we went shopping at a toy store. Thomas kept showing me puppets, so we were either in a toy store or having freaky puppet sex...again. We then went to the Mid-America Science Museum. Everyone else had fun playing with the exhibits, while I sat on a bench in a stupor. And, I think I may have been slobbering a little bit.
Then we drove back home and I had 7-Up and french fries.
Now, I'm going to bed.
The End.
Scintillating, wasn't it?
Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who is too blech to think of a tagline.
December 28, 2006
Weekend Pass
Free as a Bird
Tomorrow I am getting out of bum fuck. I'm positively giddy. And, I don't do giddy often. Thomas and I are driving down to Hot Springs, AR. I know. It's still Arkansas, but Hot Springs is kinda like you're in Arkansas, but you're not. They actually have ethnic restaurants there that aren't Taco Bell.
I really should get out more.
They Call it News
It's time once again for news from the local paper, and I've typed it exactly as printed. Except for the italicized parts which are my smartass comments.
Try to contain yourselves.
Tomorrow I am getting out of bum fuck. I'm positively giddy. And, I don't do giddy often. Thomas and I are driving down to Hot Springs, AR. I know. It's still Arkansas, but Hot Springs is kinda like you're in Arkansas, but you're not. They actually have ethnic restaurants there that aren't Taco Bell.
I really should get out more.
They Call it News
It's time once again for news from the local paper, and I've typed it exactly as printed. Except for the italicized parts which are my smartass comments.
Try to contain yourselves.
- Gertie Burnett and son, Marion Smith, went to the Senior Center Tuesday 19th for a Christmas party. They reported a very enjoyable time. Gertie would like to inform whoever it may concern that bought an EZ bake oven at her garage sale that she has found the little pans for it. I honestly can't put into words the immense relief I felt when I read this. Thank the powers that be that the little pans are no longer lost and will soon be reunited with their light-bulb heated oven.
- In a panic, Kindergartener, Chase Boatright asked me to call his mother, Chonda to remind his mother to please bring his teacher, Mrs. Mosley her present for the Christmas party. Here comes Chonda with present, camera and camcorder in hand as she arrived for the event. What would we do without mothers? What does this even mean?
- A man said that he had hired a neighbor to assist him with some labor and that when the neighbor left in a "huff" because of the work he noticed his laptop computer and tape measure were missing. I had to read this three times before I understood what the fuck it was supposed to mean. Well, duh! He had to take the tape measure. How else would he know what size laptop bag to buy?
- While out enjoying the Christmas lights, Edna saw quite a site. Never before had she seen Christmas yard decorations and lights of four large green alligators with big teeth, long tails wearing red Christmas stocking caps. It was almost scary, she said! The caps were on their tails? Was Edna wearing the caps? Alligators as Christmas decor is almost scary? Why the exclamation point?!!!!?
- Finally, a headline: Elkins seniors chase a rooster for Christmas. Hey. You guys celebrate Christmas your way. We like to chase farm animals as part of the festivities.
Do you see why I'm so happy about getting away?
Church Sign O' the Week
"Try God. If you don't like him, the Devil will take you. "
A contingency plan. Nice.
2 Must Read Blogs
The first is What is Hip, and trust me, Don knows what's hip. In fact, I think Don invented hip. He was at least one of the founding fathers of hip. He's also very funny, and he writes in complete sentences. Plus, he lives in a neighborhood, which makes me very jealous.
The second is Fantasy Writer Guy. He was nice enough to write a post about me, but this isn't a tit-for-tat thing. Dear god. Did I just use the phrase tit-for-tat? I'm not sure what possessed me to do that. Anyway, FWG has a fabulous blog. Seriously. If you can read his posts without laughing then there is no hope for you.
Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who is still giddy. Giddy, I tell ya.
December 27, 2006
Oh God Told Noah to Build Him and Arky Arky
There is a pastor in Frostburg, MD that is claiming he had a vision in which god told him to build an ark. And, he's doing it. Only it's not going to float. And, there aren't going to be animals inside. And, the guy's name isn't Noah, it's Richard*.
Oh my. His name is Richard*.
Well, you go, Dick*. You build your arky ark, and may the naysayers be damned to hell and back with western Kansas as a detour. I realize that you started building your ark in 1976 and it's still not anywhere near completed. It may have taken you 30 years to merely have the shell up, but patience is like totally a virtue, dude. Does it really matter if it didn't take Noah 30 years to build his ark? Noah wasn't hindered by modern tools like cranes and power drills and such. So, of course it didn't take him 30 years just to build the shell of his ark.
Who cares that the Empire State Building is way bigger than your proposed ark and only took a little over a year to build? The only reason it was built so quickly is because those heathens worked on the Sabbath. Which means they had Satan helping them with the erection of that very phallic-looking structure of evil.
No, Dicky Boy. You ignore those who would taunt and make fun. They won't be laughing when in another 30 years you actually have the sides of the ark on, will they? They'll feel pretty darn foolish in 60 years when you're dead, but someone else has carried on the task of building your a to the r to the k and the roof is not only on, but on fire. Yeah. On fire for Christ. And, just watch those hell-bound reprobates snicker when sometime in the next century your dream is brought to fruition. They'll be sorry then won't they Big D? Oh yes. They'll be sorry.
Actually, they'll be dead by then, but you know what I mean.
I wish with all of my heart and soul that I could drink an anti-aging potion so I could stay alive long enough to see Dick's Ark come to the fully erect stage. I'm sure it's going to be something just completely magical.
For those of you who wish to help in the re-building of the Ark, here is the link.
Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who wishes she could have grandiose visions of very large arks.
*Please note that I totally adore the names Richard and Dick, and will only poke fun if you're a Dick building an ark.
Oh my. His name is Richard*.
Well, you go, Dick*. You build your arky ark, and may the naysayers be damned to hell and back with western Kansas as a detour. I realize that you started building your ark in 1976 and it's still not anywhere near completed. It may have taken you 30 years to merely have the shell up, but patience is like totally a virtue, dude. Does it really matter if it didn't take Noah 30 years to build his ark? Noah wasn't hindered by modern tools like cranes and power drills and such. So, of course it didn't take him 30 years just to build the shell of his ark.
Who cares that the Empire State Building is way bigger than your proposed ark and only took a little over a year to build? The only reason it was built so quickly is because those heathens worked on the Sabbath. Which means they had Satan helping them with the erection of that very phallic-looking structure of evil.
No, Dicky Boy. You ignore those who would taunt and make fun. They won't be laughing when in another 30 years you actually have the sides of the ark on, will they? They'll feel pretty darn foolish in 60 years when you're dead, but someone else has carried on the task of building your a to the r to the k and the roof is not only on, but on fire. Yeah. On fire for Christ. And, just watch those hell-bound reprobates snicker when sometime in the next century your dream is brought to fruition. They'll be sorry then won't they Big D? Oh yes. They'll be sorry.
Actually, they'll be dead by then, but you know what I mean.
I wish with all of my heart and soul that I could drink an anti-aging potion so I could stay alive long enough to see Dick's Ark come to the fully erect stage. I'm sure it's going to be something just completely magical.
For those of you who wish to help in the re-building of the Ark, here is the link.
Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who wishes she could have grandiose visions of very large arks.
*Please note that I totally adore the names Richard and Dick, and will only poke fun if you're a Dick building an ark.
December 26, 2006
Thou Shalt Not
I received a comment on one of my posts challenging me to examine myself using the 10 Commandments as a checklist. And, as much as I deplore the phrase "let me challenge you", I'm going to take him up on his offer.
- Thou shalt have no other gods before me. I doth not believe in any gods, so I cannot be breaking this commandment. But, the nameplate on my desk at work reads, "The Goddess". I'm really not sure how this fits in.
- Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image. I hath never madest an idol. Unless you count that one time I licked a push-up pop into the shape of a penis. But, I did NOT worship the orange sherbet penis.
- Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain. I hath no lord nor doth I have a god to take their names in vain. What about "fuck", though? 'Cause I say fuck a lot and not always in reference to the act of coitus.
- Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy. I doth remember the Sabbath, because that is the day I doth not have to work. I'm not sure about the holy part. Does doing my husband count if he screams "hallelujah" during the act, and says "amen" afterwards?
- Honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee. I doth not keep this commandment, as my parents sucketh oxen member. I guess my days are numbered.
- Thou shalt not kill. I hath not killed any person. However, I show no mercy to bugs in my house. And, when I was little I used to bowl with rolly pollies. But, I don't think that killed them. I think it probably just made them dizzy or gave them brain damage or something.
- Thou shalt not commit adultery. I hath not committed adultery. But, I know how you Christians are sticklers with this one and insist that if you even think about someone sexually, then you have committed adultery in your heart. I admit that I think about Johnny Depp sexually. I don't think about having sex with him, though - I just want to watch him pleasure himself. Repeatedly. Is this adultery? And is it really in my heart? 'Cause I'm thinking it's a little farther south.
- Thou shalt not steal. I hath stolen and am sorely afraid. I used to take quarters from my father's dresser so I could buy pop at school. But, only because I had a severe addiction to carbonation.
- Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor. I hath broken this commandment. I was 8 and called my neighbor, Ann, "white trash" and she really wasn't. I also punched her in the nose, but she deserved that.
- Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor any thing that is thy neighbour's. I hath coveted my neighbor's ass. I've also coveted my neighbor's manservant. She called him her pool boy, but manservant - pool boy. Same thing in my book.
So, how'd I do? I realize that I used a lot of sexual references in this post, but that's only because I'm an unrepentant sinner who is extra-lustful today.
Take Care,
The Bablatrice - Who receiveth much pleasure in breaking the rules.
December 24, 2006
Merry Celebration of Whatever You Celebrate Day!
Really. What could say Happy Holidays more than this?
I hope that all of you may be surrounded by love, happiness, laughter and then more love. And, may all of the annoying relatives consume a buttload of alcohol and pass out quickly.
Take Care,
The Bablatrice and Co-hort.
December 22, 2006
Temporary Pink Slip
I didn't go to work today, and I won't be at work until January 2nd. Why not? Because, our company closes between Christmas and New Year's.
Every year. Closed. No worky.
And, I'm going to get paid for not working.
I just thought you should know.
Every year. Closed. No worky.
And, I'm going to get paid for not working.
I just thought you should know.
December 21, 2006
Holy Chocolate Foreskins, Batman!
Phone Etiquette
This is the kind of kinky conversations my husband and I have.
Me: Hi, Mister
Thomas: Hi, Sweetie. I can't hear you very well.
Me: Hello?
Thomas: Hello?
Me: Hang on. Is that better?
Thomas: No. I still can barely hear you.
Me: How about now?
Thomas: No.
Me: Just a minute...How about now?
Thomas: That's better. What'd you do?
Me: I had to clean the chocolate out of the mouthpiece on my phone.
The Bible Exotica
In this week's Northwest Arkansas Business Journal there's an article about a local man who publishes exotic King James Bibles. We'll call him Duane, because that's his name. Duane uses various animal skins for the covers of these Bibles: elephant, ostrich, lamb, alligator and other such vermin - hence the adjective "exotic".
The ostrich Bible will set you back a mere $325 and only comes in one color. I'm assuming it's the color of an ostrich. The alligator Bible is $1700. Seventeen hundred bucks for a book you can steal from any Motel 6 nightstand drawer? Duane also states that he can get other hides should a customer want one. And, then adds, "'Course a lot of people wouldn't want to put snake skin on the Word of God." Oh, Duane, stop it. You're killing me. You are quite the funnyman. Seriously, dude. You totally rock in the humor department.
I seem to remember a story in the Bible about David harvesting the foreskins of 200 Philistines as payment for Saul's daughter. That's what I want my Bible to be covered in. 200 little shriveled circlets of Philistine foreskins. How 'bout it, D?
Church Sign O' the Week
This is the kind of kinky conversations my husband and I have.
Me: Hi, Mister
Thomas: Hi, Sweetie. I can't hear you very well.
Me: Hello?
Thomas: Hello?
Me: Hang on. Is that better?
Thomas: No. I still can barely hear you.
Me: How about now?
Thomas: No.
Me: Just a minute...How about now?
Thomas: That's better. What'd you do?
Me: I had to clean the chocolate out of the mouthpiece on my phone.
The Bible Exotica
In this week's Northwest Arkansas Business Journal there's an article about a local man who publishes exotic King James Bibles. We'll call him Duane, because that's his name. Duane uses various animal skins for the covers of these Bibles: elephant, ostrich, lamb, alligator and other such vermin - hence the adjective "exotic".
The ostrich Bible will set you back a mere $325 and only comes in one color. I'm assuming it's the color of an ostrich. The alligator Bible is $1700. Seventeen hundred bucks for a book you can steal from any Motel 6 nightstand drawer? Duane also states that he can get other hides should a customer want one. And, then adds, "'Course a lot of people wouldn't want to put snake skin on the Word of God." Oh, Duane, stop it. You're killing me. You are quite the funnyman. Seriously, dude. You totally rock in the humor department.
I seem to remember a story in the Bible about David harvesting the foreskins of 200 Philistines as payment for Saul's daughter. That's what I want my Bible to be covered in. 200 little shriveled circlets of Philistine foreskins. How 'bout it, D?
Church Sign O' the Week
"Christ is the perfect Christmas present."
Well, that's a huge relief isn't it? We no longer have to wonder what to give those hard-to-buy-for people. Think about it. If you give JC as a gift you don't have to worry about him being the wrong size. The son of god is one size fits all. He'd be handy to have at parties, too, should you run out of wine. And, since he can multiply food at will, your grocery bill would plummet. Frisbee stuck on the roof? No worries. Jesus can just do that totally whack ascension trick of his and you'll have your Frisbee back lickety-split. That add-on to the house you've been longing for is no longer a problem, either. Christ the Carpenter has got yo' ass covered. Have a touch of the flu? Jesus H. Christ laughs at your flu. I mean he raised a man from the dead, for god's sake. I don't think he's gonna blink an eye at a few measly aches and pains.
I only have a few questions about this whole Jesus as a gift thing. One, should you be the recipient of Jesus, can you re-gift him? And, if you're giving him as a gift do you wrap him? Put him in a gift bag? Play it austere and only tie a bow around his neck, or do you go with my husband's suggestion that it's probably more appropriate to just hang him from the tree?
Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who puts the heat in heathenism.
December 19, 2006
Beep beep, beep beep, yeah!
A Conundrum, if You Will
The road I drive everyday to work is called a highway. Ha ha ha ha ha. Once you get to the part of this "highway" where there are housing additions on either side, traffic becomes congested. I always let people pull out in front of me. I'm just nice like that. The other day I was being all smug about my niceness and thought that maybe if I didn't let these people out, they'd be frustrated. Then when they stopped for coffee, due to their frustration, they would in turn frustrate the clerk. Then the clerk would frustrate the next 5 customers. Those 5 would each frustrate 5 people, and on an on until I've pretty much pissed off the entire Northwest Arkansas region all because I didn't let someone pull out in front of me.
The reverse of this, of course, is that by letting someone pull out they would be overcome by happiness. This unadulterated joy would then spread exponentially and I'd be responsible for making thousands of people feel as though they were walking around with little bottles of sunshine and rainbows in their pockets all day.
But, then I had an appalling thought. What if by being nice and letting someone pull out in front of me I was pissing off 20 people behind me?
The moral of this story is: I'm fucked either way, and I'm pretty sure I suffer from mild delusions of grandeur.
Bumper Sticker Spotted
"Redneck and Proud of It" And it was adorned with a Confederate flag. I don't know how to break it to some of you, but there are no longer any Confederate States of America. There haven't been in over a century, so you should really stop it with the Rebel flag thing. You don't see anyone from the north displaying the Union flag do you?
Wait a minute.
The Union flag is our national flag. You know why? Because the NORTH WON.
Do you really think the South will rise again? Because the way I see it, if you're living in a state who ranks in the bottom five in education and income level, but in the top five in teen pregnancy and crime - I seriously doubt that you're properly prepared for an uprising.
Besides racism is dumb.
Everywhere a Sign
Thomas and I went to Little Rock this past weekend. They have scrolling message boards on the side of the road and I swear to god it's like someone's mother is standing there shouting out instructions: Watch out for work zones. Buckle up for safety. Slow down. Speed kills. Brake for safety. Are you wearing clean underwear? Don't forget to floss. You're not really going to wear that are you? But he's such a nice boy. Don't sit so close to the television. Quit running in the house. That's gonna go straight to your hips. You're making a mess. Don't make me tell your father. Don't touch that. Don't play with that. You're going to go blind. Because I said so!
Take Care,
The Bablatrice - Certified Sunshine Spreader (at least in her own head)
The road I drive everyday to work is called a highway. Ha ha ha ha ha. Once you get to the part of this "highway" where there are housing additions on either side, traffic becomes congested. I always let people pull out in front of me. I'm just nice like that. The other day I was being all smug about my niceness and thought that maybe if I didn't let these people out, they'd be frustrated. Then when they stopped for coffee, due to their frustration, they would in turn frustrate the clerk. Then the clerk would frustrate the next 5 customers. Those 5 would each frustrate 5 people, and on an on until I've pretty much pissed off the entire Northwest Arkansas region all because I didn't let someone pull out in front of me.
The reverse of this, of course, is that by letting someone pull out they would be overcome by happiness. This unadulterated joy would then spread exponentially and I'd be responsible for making thousands of people feel as though they were walking around with little bottles of sunshine and rainbows in their pockets all day.
But, then I had an appalling thought. What if by being nice and letting someone pull out in front of me I was pissing off 20 people behind me?
The moral of this story is: I'm fucked either way, and I'm pretty sure I suffer from mild delusions of grandeur.
Bumper Sticker Spotted
"Redneck and Proud of It" And it was adorned with a Confederate flag. I don't know how to break it to some of you, but there are no longer any Confederate States of America. There haven't been in over a century, so you should really stop it with the Rebel flag thing. You don't see anyone from the north displaying the Union flag do you?
Wait a minute.
The Union flag is our national flag. You know why? Because the NORTH WON.
Do you really think the South will rise again? Because the way I see it, if you're living in a state who ranks in the bottom five in education and income level, but in the top five in teen pregnancy and crime - I seriously doubt that you're properly prepared for an uprising.
Besides racism is dumb.
Everywhere a Sign
Thomas and I went to Little Rock this past weekend. They have scrolling message boards on the side of the road and I swear to god it's like someone's mother is standing there shouting out instructions: Watch out for work zones. Buckle up for safety. Slow down. Speed kills. Brake for safety. Are you wearing clean underwear? Don't forget to floss. You're not really going to wear that are you? But he's such a nice boy. Don't sit so close to the television. Quit running in the house. That's gonna go straight to your hips. You're making a mess. Don't make me tell your father. Don't touch that. Don't play with that. You're going to go blind. Because I said so!
Take Care,
The Bablatrice - Certified Sunshine Spreader (at least in her own head)
December 18, 2006
Fa La La La La Di Freakin' Da
On the rare occasions I'm not being an NPR whore, I flip around radio stations trying to find something decent to listen to. With all this flipping I've heard a lot of Christmas songs. Unfortunately, most of them suck great, big, greasy, monkey nuts.
And now, I give you:
The Bablatrice's List of Christmas Songs That Should Be Held at Gunpoint Until They Surrender ( in no particular order, but #3 is the most putrid)
1. Santa Looked A Lot Like Daddy by whoever the fuck sings it
This one is a crime against humanity. I seriously want to gouge my eyes out with a spork when I hear this. And, eye-gouging is not an easy task while you're driving.
2. Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree by Brenda Lee
Reminiscent of fingernails on a chalkboard. I, for one, have never ever ever been the recipient of a sentimental feeling from hearing voices singing "let's be jolly, deck the halls with boughs of holly."
3. The Christmas Shoes by um..yeah.
Blech. Blech. Cough. Hack. Kckkkckkkkk. Excuse me, I was just coughing up a great big wad of dreck. The premise of the song is that some kid is buying shoes for his dying mother because "I want her to look beautiful if Mama meets Jesus tonight". Who knew J-Dawd had such a shoe fetish?
4. Grandma Got Ran Over by a Reindeer by Elmo and Patsy
Please, please don't make me endure this song ever again. It's like the Macarena of Christmas songs.
5. Feliz Navidad by Jose Feliciano
Jose is still raking in the bucks from this one. Unfuckingbelievable.
6. Jingle Bell Rock by anyone who sings it
Where is Jingle Bell Square, anyway? I only ask because I want to make sure I never mistakenly end up smack dab in the middle of it, and find myself surrounded by holiday revelers dancing and prancing in the frosty air.
7. Last Christmas by George Michael
Quite possibly the worst lyrics ever placed on paper: "A crowded room, friends with tired eyes. I'm hiding from you and your soul of ice. " Bahahahaha. You cruel, heartless beehotch who gave his love away the day after Christmas. Curse you! Curse you and your frigid soul.
8. Oh Come All Ye Faithful by Twisted Sister
That's not a typo. It's really Twisted Sister, and they have a Christmas album titled "A Twisted Christmas". Catchy, no? I've only heard this one song of their album, but I imagine all of them will have the same effect of making my spleen spasm.
9. Blue Christmas by Elvis
Most. Depressing. Christmas. Song. Ever.
10. The 12 Pains of Christmas by Weird Al
No more parodies of the 12 Days of Christmas. Stop. The original is unbearable enough. No one can make it better. Please, for the love of god, stop.
Take Care,
The Bablatrice, who has ALL of these stuck in her head now.
And now, I give you:
The Bablatrice's List of Christmas Songs That Should Be Held at Gunpoint Until They Surrender ( in no particular order, but #3 is the most putrid)
1. Santa Looked A Lot Like Daddy by whoever the fuck sings it
This one is a crime against humanity. I seriously want to gouge my eyes out with a spork when I hear this. And, eye-gouging is not an easy task while you're driving.
2. Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree by Brenda Lee
Reminiscent of fingernails on a chalkboard. I, for one, have never ever ever been the recipient of a sentimental feeling from hearing voices singing "let's be jolly, deck the halls with boughs of holly."
3. The Christmas Shoes by um..yeah.
Blech. Blech. Cough. Hack. Kckkkckkkkk. Excuse me, I was just coughing up a great big wad of dreck. The premise of the song is that some kid is buying shoes for his dying mother because "I want her to look beautiful if Mama meets Jesus tonight". Who knew J-Dawd had such a shoe fetish?
4. Grandma Got Ran Over by a Reindeer by Elmo and Patsy
Please, please don't make me endure this song ever again. It's like the Macarena of Christmas songs.
5. Feliz Navidad by Jose Feliciano
Jose is still raking in the bucks from this one. Unfuckingbelievable.
6. Jingle Bell Rock by anyone who sings it
Where is Jingle Bell Square, anyway? I only ask because I want to make sure I never mistakenly end up smack dab in the middle of it, and find myself surrounded by holiday revelers dancing and prancing in the frosty air.
7. Last Christmas by George Michael
Quite possibly the worst lyrics ever placed on paper: "A crowded room, friends with tired eyes. I'm hiding from you and your soul of ice. " Bahahahaha. You cruel, heartless beehotch who gave his love away the day after Christmas. Curse you! Curse you and your frigid soul.
8. Oh Come All Ye Faithful by Twisted Sister
That's not a typo. It's really Twisted Sister, and they have a Christmas album titled "A Twisted Christmas". Catchy, no? I've only heard this one song of their album, but I imagine all of them will have the same effect of making my spleen spasm.
9. Blue Christmas by Elvis
Most. Depressing. Christmas. Song. Ever.
10. The 12 Pains of Christmas by Weird Al
No more parodies of the 12 Days of Christmas. Stop. The original is unbearable enough. No one can make it better. Please, for the love of god, stop.
Take Care,
The Bablatrice, who has ALL of these stuck in her head now.
December 16, 2006
Santa vs. Jesus. Round 1
Baby Jesus MIA
A woman from Eureka Springs, AR ripped off the baby Jesus from a local nativity scene. This particular baby Jesus has been stolen every year since 1998 and this year's thief stated that she was only carrying on tradition. How can you argue with that logic? You can't. Christmas is all about tradition. The best part of the whole story is the Jesus-thief is 70 years old! Get your heist on, Grandma, and please rock on with your bad self.
Dear Editor, I'm Bitter and Bored
The following is a letter to the editor that was in today's Arkansas Democrat Gazette.
Holiday is not innocent. Something for Christians to think about: It’s that time of year. Nowhere in God’s word are we told to celebrate Jesus’ birthday. And he was not born in December; there were shepherds in the field. Most people, including Christians, tell their children that Santa Claus brings them gifts. Everywhere you go you see Santa Clauses. Move letters around in Santa and you have Satan. And all should do a study to see where the “mas” was added to Christ’s name. Then read in the Bible what happens to those who add or take away from the words in the book. The Bible also says to beware that no one shall be despoiling you through philosophy and empty seduction in accord with human tradition in accord with the elements of the world and not in accord with Christ. Many say Xmas is an innocent celebration. Yes, innocent poison. HERBERT PAGE
You heard it, people. Xmas = innocent poison. I think Innocent Poison would be a cool name for a band.
Herbie, you need to find a hobby. Model airplanes? Philately? (It's stamp collecting, H, not something dirty.) Online bingo? Just something to keep your mind off of how deviltry and Christmas go together like peanut butter and jelly, so we don't have to endure anymore of your letters. And did you stop to think that maybe they added "mas" to Christ's name because it means "more" in Spanish. Christ more. More Christ. Can we honestly have too much saviour, Herb?
I do have to say that I totally dig how you used the word "despoiling".
Church Sign O' The Week
"Sermon: Jesus or Santa?"
We get to vote on who we'd rather hear a sermon from? Oh, joy! Let's compare, shall we?
A woman from Eureka Springs, AR ripped off the baby Jesus from a local nativity scene. This particular baby Jesus has been stolen every year since 1998 and this year's thief stated that she was only carrying on tradition. How can you argue with that logic? You can't. Christmas is all about tradition. The best part of the whole story is the Jesus-thief is 70 years old! Get your heist on, Grandma, and please rock on with your bad self.
Dear Editor, I'm Bitter and Bored
The following is a letter to the editor that was in today's Arkansas Democrat Gazette.
Holiday is not innocent. Something for Christians to think about: It’s that time of year. Nowhere in God’s word are we told to celebrate Jesus’ birthday. And he was not born in December; there were shepherds in the field. Most people, including Christians, tell their children that Santa Claus brings them gifts. Everywhere you go you see Santa Clauses. Move letters around in Santa and you have Satan. And all should do a study to see where the “mas” was added to Christ’s name. Then read in the Bible what happens to those who add or take away from the words in the book. The Bible also says to beware that no one shall be despoiling you through philosophy and empty seduction in accord with human tradition in accord with the elements of the world and not in accord with Christ. Many say Xmas is an innocent celebration. Yes, innocent poison. HERBERT PAGE
You heard it, people. Xmas = innocent poison. I think Innocent Poison would be a cool name for a band.
Herbie, you need to find a hobby. Model airplanes? Philately? (It's stamp collecting, H, not something dirty.) Online bingo? Just something to keep your mind off of how deviltry and Christmas go together like peanut butter and jelly, so we don't have to endure anymore of your letters. And did you stop to think that maybe they added "mas" to Christ's name because it means "more" in Spanish. Christ more. More Christ. Can we honestly have too much saviour, Herb?
I do have to say that I totally dig how you used the word "despoiling".
Church Sign O' The Week
"Sermon: Jesus or Santa?"
We get to vote on who we'd rather hear a sermon from? Oh, joy! Let's compare, shall we?
- They're both imaginary entities. (If you're a child reading this ignore that last sentence, because Santa is definitely real. And, what the hell are your parents doing letting you read this trash?)
- Santa is jolly, whose belly is shakin' like jelly. Jesus is self-righteous and thinks he's god. Jelly shakin' will get you invited to way more parties than pretentiousness. 1 Point for Santa.
- Santa brings toys, Jesus brings eternal life. Which would you rather open on Christmas morning? Another point for Santa
- Santa lives with elves. Jesus lived with 12 other men. That's a toss up.
- Santa is an anagram for Satan. Jesus is an anagram for Sujes. We all know Satan could kick Sujes' ass in a street fight, so Santa wins this one, too.
- Santa dons a bright red suit, with white fur (faux, I'm sure), patent leather belt, funky boots and smokes a pipe. Jesus wears a white tunic-like thing that's plain, and sandals that have subsequently been named after him. Funky boots win over Jesus sandals every time.
- Santa eats cookies and drinks milk. Jesus wants us to symbolically eat his flesh and drink his blood. Um. Ew. Another point for Santa. (Somethin' tells me the big J didn't bring his A-game to this face-off.)
- Santa's choice of transportation is a flying sleigh. Jesus walked a lot, and rode a donkey. One more point for Santa.
- Santa isn't an expletive. Jesus H. Christ is. Jesus pulls one out!
- Santa knows if we've been naughty or nice. Jesus knows if you're an unrepentant sinner. Another toss up.
- Santa and his sleigh can be picked up on radar on Christmas Eve. Jesus hasn't been spotted in over 2000 years. Santa again.
- Santa wants to come down your chimney. Jesus wants to come into your heart. That's just way creepy. I don't want anything in my heart except the occasional cheeseburger and fries. One more for Santa.
- Santa brings up 236,000,000 pages when Googled, Jesus only 141,000,000. Another point for the fat, jolly guy.
The tally is: Santa - 10 Jesus - 1
Jesus H. Christ! You just got totally smoked by Satan Santa. He was all up in your face, fo shizzle and fo sheezy. Better luck next time, JC.
Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who will never tell where she stands on the naughty or nice list.
December 13, 2006
I'm Like Grody and Stuff!
You wanna know why I haven't posted in over a week? Of course you do. For the past week, I've only been able to type with my left hand. Wanna know why I've only been able to type with my left hand? Of course you do. I burned my right hand. Let me rephrase that. I burned flesh off of all four fingers on my right hand. And, I had to let the doctor cut off one of the blisters. With scissors. Do you know what scissors cutting through human skin sounds like? It's so not pleasant. And when she got to the edges where there was still viable, living flesh it was rather uncomfortable.
Which translates as: It fuckin' hurt.
I learned that if you should find yourself in public with your hand swathed in gauze, you will be asked by everyone who sees it what happened. This asking is purely morbid curiosity. Only one person out of the roughly 964 people who asked about it offered advice on how to ease the pain.
What the advice giver said was: "You should take Aleve for the pain. My son burned his hand really bad and the doctor gave him pain pills, but they're addictive so I made him stop taking them and then he took Aleve. Aleve is what I recommend to all of my burn patients."
What I heard was: "You should take Aleve for the pain. My son burned his hand really bad and the doctor gave him pain pills, and I swiped one. Then I found out what a good buzz I copped from them, so I stole them from my son and made him take Aleve. I don't know why I'm making a reference to "my burn patients" because I'm not a doctor. I'm a cashier at a grocery store, but I pretend that I'm a doctor. A lot."
Yes, I got pain pills and yes I took them. All of them. I'm sorry, but when my fingers are twice their normal size and look as though I could transform into a werewolf at any moment, Aleve just won't cut it.
I'm down to having only my middle finger bandaged, and I'm still getting asked what happened, but now I tell people I got bit by a rhinoceros.
Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who discovered it's tricky to wash her left armpit with her left hand.
Which translates as: It fuckin' hurt.
I learned that if you should find yourself in public with your hand swathed in gauze, you will be asked by everyone who sees it what happened. This asking is purely morbid curiosity. Only one person out of the roughly 964 people who asked about it offered advice on how to ease the pain.
What the advice giver said was: "You should take Aleve for the pain. My son burned his hand really bad and the doctor gave him pain pills, but they're addictive so I made him stop taking them and then he took Aleve. Aleve is what I recommend to all of my burn patients."
What I heard was: "You should take Aleve for the pain. My son burned his hand really bad and the doctor gave him pain pills, and I swiped one. Then I found out what a good buzz I copped from them, so I stole them from my son and made him take Aleve. I don't know why I'm making a reference to "my burn patients" because I'm not a doctor. I'm a cashier at a grocery store, but I pretend that I'm a doctor. A lot."
Yes, I got pain pills and yes I took them. All of them. I'm sorry, but when my fingers are twice their normal size and look as though I could transform into a werewolf at any moment, Aleve just won't cut it.
I'm down to having only my middle finger bandaged, and I'm still getting asked what happened, but now I tell people I got bit by a rhinoceros.
Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who discovered it's tricky to wash her left armpit with her left hand.
December 5, 2006
Fun at the Office
Email #1
Somehow I got on Fayetteville High School's email list at the office. I'm not really sure how, but the other morning I checked my email and there was a string of emails that went like this.
"Old Man Winter is blowing in cold conditions."
I think that if Old Man Winter has to dole out blowjobs for a career he should join some kind of union so he doesn't have to put up with such crappy working conditions.
I was logging an expense today for a snow removal tool, but I typed snot removal.
Yeah, stuff like this really does amuse me. Especially when the snot removal tool is a shovel.
Finally, if you're bored at work can you think of anything more fun than leafing through the Yellow Pages? Of course not. Because you get to find ads like this one. Please note that the tacky scribbling is all me, baby!
Serving God's People Through Dentistry.
Bahahahaha.
Somehow, I don't think they'd ever welcome me as a patient.
Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who is easily amused
Somehow I got on Fayetteville High School's email list at the office. I'm not really sure how, but the other morning I checked my email and there was a string of emails that went like this.
- Due to inclimate weather, FHS will close one hour early today.
- Please remove me from the list
- Please remove me from the list
- Please remove me from the list
- I don't take care of this
- I wasn't emailing you. Please remove me from the list.
- This list is like the Hotel California, you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.
- For god's sake, stop this insanity. Take me off the list.
"Old Man Winter is blowing in cold conditions."
I think that if Old Man Winter has to dole out blowjobs for a career he should join some kind of union so he doesn't have to put up with such crappy working conditions.
I was logging an expense today for a snow removal tool, but I typed snot removal.
Yeah, stuff like this really does amuse me. Especially when the snot removal tool is a shovel.
Finally, if you're bored at work can you think of anything more fun than leafing through the Yellow Pages? Of course not. Because you get to find ads like this one. Please note that the tacky scribbling is all me, baby!
Serving God's People Through Dentistry.
Bahahahaha.
Somehow, I don't think they'd ever welcome me as a patient.
Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who is easily amused
December 3, 2006
Santa Baby
Dear Santa
In the local paper this week (yep - our town only has a weekly paper) there were letters to Santa from kids at the local schools. Here are a few of the better ones, with my comments. Did you really think I wouldn't comment?
Dear Santa,
Is it cold up ther? I am shr it is. dont wre it will be wrm in my house. there will be hot chaliket. i been bad and good sometimes. I hop I get the theng's I want for cricmus. I hop you will give me wut I want for cricmus.
Love,
Will
Will- I hop you get what you want for cricmus, too - as well as a few vowels. You need them.
Dear Santa,
How are you and Mrs. Claus? Thank you for the gifts that you gave me last year. I would like to have pjs also a barbie. I will leve you cookies and milk.
Merry Christmas,
Jennifer.
Jen - If Santa doesn't bring you pajamas and a Barbie, he's a big, fat mean bastard, and I will personally help you kick his ginormous, lard-filled ass.
Dear Santa,
I hope you and Mrs. Claus are okay. Thank you for the prezes. I wuld like to have for Christmas this year I'd like to have urk eestrik log shot. Id like to havv ddgn. I will leave kookez and nelk.
Zakkari
Um...Zak..are you an alien? 'Cause the last half of your letter sounds a lot like what I would imagine alien-speak to be.
Dear Santa,
I wont to send you a meshig. What I rillie want is a new puppy. Next, I rillie wont is a horse. Last, I onte is a nother puppy for crismus. I rillie want theshe things.
Love,
Kensey.
Kensey - you're entirely too young to be drinking. Lay off the sauce until you're at least in the 5th grade, okay?
Dear Santa,
My name is Autumn. I really want a baby bed for all of my dolls. I would like to say "I love you, and be safe, your going to splash your bottom going into my house."
Autumn, dear child, do you possibly live in a houseboat? Swamp? A raft in the middle of a pond? C'mon kid, I'm dyin' to know exactly how Santa's going to get a wet tush going to your house.
Dear Santa,
I hope you and Mrs. Claus are don w wenl. Thank you fur the presents. I would like to have for Christmas this year is a makn chrowch chok. And I wont is a now viteo gom. And the last sta I kan am irtnel is I wont a I wont a naw bike.
Gabe
Yo Gabe! Are you by any chance related to Zak the Alien?
Dear Santa,
Emily is my name. I would love to have a yellow moon shape touch light from the dollar tree. I would like to say "Merry Christmas and tell the rain deer hi for me."
It just breaks my heart that Emily only asks for one thing from the Dollar Tree. The Dollar Tree, people, where everything's a fucking dollar. Emily, if I knew who you were, I'd go to the Dollar Tree and buy you every single yellow moon touch lamp they had.
My Buddy
I got a phone call tonight from my buddy, Stace. He's one of the best guys in the whole entire solar system. Seriously. He's just...well, he's Stace. Anyway, he has a son, Jess...and Jess is a complete angel. We're quickly learning that Jess is a very intelligent angel. He turns 9 tomorrow and he's already reading at a 10th grade level. He loves Lord of the Rings and was so disappointed that there weren't more books, he's decided to write his own sequels. But, what really makes me love Jess even more than I already did is that he turned in some homework and he'd written it in Hobbit. How fuckin' cool is that? The kid wrote his homework in Hobbit!!!!
One reason why Stace is my friend is because tonight he told me that if I ever wanted him to build me a bomb, all I needed to bring him was a tampon and a book of matches. How many of your friends tell you that? Not that I'm ever going to need a bomb, but it's still good to have friends like that, isn't it?
Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who is starting her own letter to Santa.
In the local paper this week (yep - our town only has a weekly paper) there were letters to Santa from kids at the local schools. Here are a few of the better ones, with my comments. Did you really think I wouldn't comment?
Dear Santa,
Is it cold up ther? I am shr it is. dont wre it will be wrm in my house. there will be hot chaliket. i been bad and good sometimes. I hop I get the theng's I want for cricmus. I hop you will give me wut I want for cricmus.
Love,
Will
Will- I hop you get what you want for cricmus, too - as well as a few vowels. You need them.
Dear Santa,
How are you and Mrs. Claus? Thank you for the gifts that you gave me last year. I would like to have pjs also a barbie. I will leve you cookies and milk.
Merry Christmas,
Jennifer.
Jen - If Santa doesn't bring you pajamas and a Barbie, he's a big, fat mean bastard, and I will personally help you kick his ginormous, lard-filled ass.
Dear Santa,
I hope you and Mrs. Claus are okay. Thank you for the prezes. I wuld like to have for Christmas this year I'd like to have urk eestrik log shot. Id like to havv ddgn. I will leave kookez and nelk.
Zakkari
Um...Zak..are you an alien? 'Cause the last half of your letter sounds a lot like what I would imagine alien-speak to be.
Dear Santa,
I wont to send you a meshig. What I rillie want is a new puppy. Next, I rillie wont is a horse. Last, I onte is a nother puppy for crismus. I rillie want theshe things.
Love,
Kensey.
Kensey - you're entirely too young to be drinking. Lay off the sauce until you're at least in the 5th grade, okay?
Dear Santa,
My name is Autumn. I really want a baby bed for all of my dolls. I would like to say "I love you, and be safe, your going to splash your bottom going into my house."
Autumn, dear child, do you possibly live in a houseboat? Swamp? A raft in the middle of a pond? C'mon kid, I'm dyin' to know exactly how Santa's going to get a wet tush going to your house.
Dear Santa,
I hope you and Mrs. Claus are don w wenl. Thank you fur the presents. I would like to have for Christmas this year is a makn chrowch chok. And I wont is a now viteo gom. And the last sta I kan am irtnel is I wont a I wont a naw bike.
Gabe
Yo Gabe! Are you by any chance related to Zak the Alien?
Dear Santa,
Emily is my name. I would love to have a yellow moon shape touch light from the dollar tree. I would like to say "Merry Christmas and tell the rain deer hi for me."
It just breaks my heart that Emily only asks for one thing from the Dollar Tree. The Dollar Tree, people, where everything's a fucking dollar. Emily, if I knew who you were, I'd go to the Dollar Tree and buy you every single yellow moon touch lamp they had.
My Buddy
I got a phone call tonight from my buddy, Stace. He's one of the best guys in the whole entire solar system. Seriously. He's just...well, he's Stace. Anyway, he has a son, Jess...and Jess is a complete angel. We're quickly learning that Jess is a very intelligent angel. He turns 9 tomorrow and he's already reading at a 10th grade level. He loves Lord of the Rings and was so disappointed that there weren't more books, he's decided to write his own sequels. But, what really makes me love Jess even more than I already did is that he turned in some homework and he'd written it in Hobbit. How fuckin' cool is that? The kid wrote his homework in Hobbit!!!!
One reason why Stace is my friend is because tonight he told me that if I ever wanted him to build me a bomb, all I needed to bring him was a tampon and a book of matches. How many of your friends tell you that? Not that I'm ever going to need a bomb, but it's still good to have friends like that, isn't it?
Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who is starting her own letter to Santa.
December 1, 2006
How Lame Can I Get? I'll Show You.
Let It Snow
We were fortunate enough to have been blessed by receiving sleet, freezing rain and snow yesterday. The good news is - no work. The bad news is - I've been stuck at home for the past 2 days. I already have cabin fever. And, it's cold. It's going to be below 20 for the next night or so. I think that anytime the temperature is going to get below 20, the forecasters shouldn't even tell us a number - they should just refer to it as "fucking cold". I hate cold weather. Even though I was raised in the Midwest, I was meant to live somewhere warm - by the ocean - with fruity drinks. *Big huge sigh*
We were fortunate enough to have been blessed by receiving sleet, freezing rain and snow yesterday. The good news is - no work. The bad news is - I've been stuck at home for the past 2 days. I already have cabin fever. And, it's cold. It's going to be below 20 for the next night or so. I think that anytime the temperature is going to get below 20, the forecasters shouldn't even tell us a number - they should just refer to it as "fucking cold". I hate cold weather. Even though I was raised in the Midwest, I was meant to live somewhere warm - by the ocean - with fruity drinks. *Big huge sigh*
I did venture out this morning and took a picture of some very phallic looking icicles. However, Blogger has decided to be difficult and I can't post the pictures. Penis envy, maybe?
Church Sign O' the Week
I've once again been betrayed by church sign guy. Nothing even close to being good enough for Church Sign O' the Week was to be had. Words cannot even begin to describe the disappointment I feel. Why, oh why church sign guy? Why do you take my love, spit on it and then throw it back in my face? What did I do to deserve this? Sure, I make fun of you on a regular basis, and I once mentioned that your IQ wasn't higher than a bird's. But, sweet fancy Moses, man give me somethin' to work with. You're killin' me.
You notice how I wrote that as though church sign guy really reads my blog?
I amuse myself.
Phone Guy Pervs
The phone company has a substation on the property at the office, and there are roughly 10 trucks in and out every day. Do they really have so many repairs in a day that they have to have 10 different trucks in and out? Sometimes they even set up a canopy. It's like they're having a picnic. I think the reason there are so many visits to the substation is because all of the phone guys hack into the system and make free international calls.
Either that, or they're calling porn lines. And, I really don't want to think about the phone guys jerking off right outside my window. Even if they are under a canopy.
The Bohemian Butterfly
You remember how about 20 posts ago I mentioned that I was trying to come up with a new name for my art store on Etsy? Well, I finally have one. I am now The Bohemian Butterfly.
I just thought you should know, 'cause I know there are some of you who have probably been losing sleep just waiting for me to come up with a new name.
Rest easy, tonight, my friends.
Well, I'm going to wrap this up before this post gets any crappier than it already is, although I don't know how that could be possible. I'm going to blame it on the madness that has began to set in due to being cooped up.
Take Care,
The Bablatrice - who is longing for the sand between her toes.
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